Eternity
by FMAlover555 i really like that
Summary: Merlin and Morgana have spent six months in the dungeons of Arida. They have their weak and their strong moments, and they always have each other. Secrets are nothing new to the two, but now there can be nothing hidden between them if they want to keep themselves, and Camelot, safe. Now a third party may come to play. Nothing is as it seems in Camelot. Mergana. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1: Dechrau

**Can I just tell you how terrible I feel for not updating my other stories? Pretty fucking horrific. I'm sorry to those who are eagerly awaiting my update for my other three stories, but inspiration has been lost on me. I'm waiting for some plot bunnies, and I will definitely try to get them up and running again soon.**

**Summary: Merlin and Morgana have spent six months in the dungeons in Arida, a far off kingdom to the north. They have their weak and their strong moments, and they always have each other. They are planning to escape, and upon their return to Camelot, Arthur and their friends notice that there's something... off... about the two. Merlin won't let anyone lay a finger on Morgana, and Morgana hardly allows anyone to even breathe on him.  
While the witch and warlock's friends are trying to understand their fluctuating tendencies and odd behavior, they have to come to terms with what happened in those cells, and worry about how far their captor will be willing to go to get them back.  
Secrets are nothing new to the two, but now there can be nothing hidden between them if they want to keep themselves, and Camelot, safe. And now a third party may come to play.  
There's something... dangerous, lurking in Merlin and Morgana. A darkness they're fighting to escape. Can they? Or will they succumb to the darkness within them, and leave their destinies behind?  
Nothing is as it seems in the city of Camelot. How will fate come to play?**

* * *

Merlin bit harshly into his tongue. Pain and blood blosomed on his back, the rivers of red blending with the older, dried ribbons.

"Please!" Morgana cried, "I'm begging you, stop!"

Another lash.

Merlin groaned. Morgana wept.

"This was his choice, woman," the monster of a man barked, lashing the whip again.

Her chains rattled as she desperately tried to move closer to her brave friend. Her best friend. Her love.

"Let him go!" she screamed.

"M'gana," Merlin practically growled through grit teeth, "Shut. Up. Please."

By the end of his words, his growl had melted into a beg.

Eyes watering again, Morgana nodded her head weakly.

Her eyes never left his as his torture raged on; whips, knives, fists, and words battering his body and mind.

Each time a sop slipped from Morgana's lips, a calloused hand would roughly make contact with her face with a sharp _whack_, and Merlin would growl would snarl and pull at his chains a little more than before.

By the end of the cruel session, Merlin's breaths were shallow and the whole side of Morgana's face was turning a molten purplish-blue.

They were tossed mercilessly into their cell. Merlin propped himself up with a groan. Noting the tension in his body, Morgana crawled on her hands and knees toward the warlock, reaching out and grasping his hand firmly.

He was her anchor, and she his. They held each other to reality, reminded each other what compassion and love felt like, what it was to be caressed instead of beaten. Morgana soon found that the touch of any other would burn like the flames of hell, no matter how gentle it was supposed to feel.

It had been six months since they were brought to these cells, and Morgana was not sure how much longer Merlin would last. He took on all of her beatings, have her larger rationings of the meager proportions of food and water that were given to them, protected her from horny guards who thought they could get lucky.

He was strong. Powerful. He knew how to fight, and that was what surprised her the most. Back at home, in Camelot, he stumbled and fell, he bumbled about, could barely lift a sword.

But here, he was fierce. He could throw a knife from across a field and still hit the target. He did.

When they had first been attacked, Merlin had panicked. Morgana had been pushed to the cold, harsh ground with a sword held to her neck. Merlin had been too far away to attack the man head on. So he had grabbed a knife and prayed to whoever was listening that he wasn't _too_rusty with a blade.

Back in Ealdor, as hard as it was to believe, Merlin had been the protector of the small settlement. He was brilliant with knives and a just as skilled archer. He never really could get the hand of a sword. But what he was _truly_good at was hand-to-hand. Wrestling with Will and getting into fights with other kids who called "freak!" across the clearing taught him through experience. He got better and better, until it didn't even matter when a bandit broke his bow.

Paired with his magic, Merlin was a great warrior, but he preferred to keep it hidden. He wanted neither the attention nor praise that would come of his display of skills.

So when Morgana had the sword held firmly to the pale flesh of her throat, Merlin was ashamed to admit that he had hesitated for the smallest second.

But his moment of doubt went as soon as it came.

The knife flew.

It hit the man in the neck, right below his jugular. He had quickly bled out.

Morgana had looked on in wonder, but Merlin wasn't even close to being done. The knights accompanying them were long since knocked unconscious or dead. Merlin claimed a few more blades.

The knives he had obtained were quickly lost. More and more men had arrived. It was then that realization had dawned on Merlin. These men were not _bandits_, but _mercenaries._They had been set up.

Merlin had fought with all his power, but all of his efforts failed in the end. Had he chosen to continue as he had been, they would have lost far more than they had bargained for.

So Merlin made a split second decision. He used magic. It had just been him and Morgana left, and strangely, he did not feel any regret, even as he was knocked unconscious by a harsh blow to the back of his head. The last thing he heard was Morgana scream his name.

She had questioned him ruthlessly in the cells, and she had soon sucked every last bit of information from him.

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Morgana had seen the relief and regret in his cobalt blue orbs, and after a few hours of pouting and more shouts, she forgave him.

As the weeks had come and gone, they grew closer and closer. They went from acquaintances to friends to best friends, to maybe something a little bit began to hold each other closer and closer; it became less and less about warmth and more and more about wishing for the comfort of the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

And they shared everything with each other. From the happiest memories, to the most painful: one time a mother gave Merlin a full meal for protecting her baby from bandits- something he had never had before; Arthur one time disguised Morgana as a man so that she could learn swordplay; Merlin had felt the lash of a whip before; Morgana had been degraded by Uther and her status as a Lady of the Court.

The chains binding his magic were weak, and often times they conversed in their minds, rather than out loud. The chains still held him though, even as they weakened by the day from his power. Healing became increasingly difficult for him as he was deprived of his power- of the very essence of him. At the beginning, he had shuddered and emptied his stomach of its contents, his body unable to handle the strain. He was glad the chains were not stronger, for if they had, he would have spiraled into a coma, and fast.

Morgana took to calling him 'Emrys' as they discussed magic, and 'Em' or 'Emmy' as a nickname. He wasn't really just Merlin to her anymore. He was everything, and as a result she had found a mixture of magic and man.

Merlin called her 'love', and neither commented on the true meaning of that word until much later in their imprisonment. At first it was used in a teasing, friendly way. But as the weeks passed, he became increasingly sincere, until 'love' became 'my love' and Morgana's heart became decreasingly cold and bitter with her hate for others. She still loathed Uther and his ideals, but she understood Merlin's adamancy to protect Arthur and the people of Camelot. She announced to him that as long as Arthur cared for Merlin and never hurt him intentionally, she would not take action against her brother. Merlin thought this fair and was, deep down pleased in her fierce protectiveness of him.

_"Em, we must escape soon,"_she whispered to his mind, once she saw him regaining a semblance of his strength.

_"Yes,"_he agreed.

Morgana was surprised. Usually he disagreed and said something about patience.

_"I have been plotting, my love. I have just recently thought of an idea. These bonds on my magic are weak. I can feel them getting weaker by the day as my power itches to be released. By tonight they will be nothing more than chains that will easily be broken. My injuries have hindered me, but I will be ready. I do not wish to see you suffer here any longer."_

Morgana smiled and hummed into his shoulder.

They would bide their time.


	2. Chapter 2: Dianc

They held each other closely. Morgana's legs straddled Merlin's lap, her arms cradled close to her chest as her head rested in the apex of his neck and shoulder. His arms hung about her waist, the manacles that cut into his wrists creasing her ripped dress. Merlin shifted, and his hands gripping her pulled her closer to his chest and his nose nudged her cheek.

_"Emmy?"_

"_Let's go."_

They made their move. The final bit of power dripped from his chains and they dropped from his wrists with a flash of gold. Hers fell soon after, and the cell door creaked open.

They rubbed absently at their bleeding, ripped wrists as they emerged from their prison. Stealthily, they disarmed the guards and moved through the passageways of the castle. They didn't come across many, and those they did were swiftly taken care of.

They soon found their way to the forest bordering the citadel.

"That was easy. Almost _too_ easy…" Merlin mussed, attempting to control his ragged and labored breathing.

"Emmy…" Morgana began, but she was cut off.

"I'm fine. Let's go home."

They traveled on, through the woodlands, but they did not get very far. Merlin's wounds had been crudely sewn with magic, and the welts marring his back seeped apart and blood oozed slowly from the ripping lines. He used his magic to slow the blood loss and dull the pain, but his magic could only do so much for so long before it began to fade.

"Em," Morgana warned "Emrys," she said firmer when her keen eye spotted him beginning to sway. When he didn't respond, worry began to sink into her consciousness "Merlin."

He turned slowly to face her.

"I'm-"

The blood suddenly rushed to his head and his vision swam. His magic receded back into his soul, and pain spread _everywhere_.His back burned with a fury, and his arms and legs stung and tingled sharply, his head holding an intense throb. He wanted to scream, but he had much practice in keeping his pain in. Instead, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the forest floor.

_"Merlin!" _she cried.

He couldn't hear her.

Tears of desperation welled in her eyes as she knelt beside him.

"Help…" she whispered hoarsely, cupping his face with one hand, brushing his tangled bangs back from his pale forehead with the other. Sunlight began to rise over the horizon.

"Please! Someone please help him! HELP!"

She was screaming, yelling, crying. Merlin's forehead was burning, and his breathing became increasingly erratic. He sweat and shivered, curling into her warmth. She felt his aching pain in the far distance of her mind, causing her to quiver. Their life force was twitching, fading slightly.

She heard a twig snap. Her head whipped around, and she pulled Merlin's shoulders and head closer to her chest, casting her eyes about cautiously. Morgana prayed that whoever was there was a friend, not an enemy. She was weak from starvation, hurting from her capture, and so, so tired.

A twig snapped again. Morgana spotted a group of men approaching through the trees. Their armor glinted in the harsh morning light, the tips of their swords eying her menacingly. Morgana felt fear strike her.

"_Morgana?"_ she heard the man at the front of the group ask incredulously, his voice filled with hope.

"Arthur," she spoke roughly. Once she understood who the armored men were, she couldn't spare them the attention. She looked to Merlin's resting face, contorted with pain, and stroked his cheek with her thumb.

A hand came down on her shoulder and she flinched violently, slapping the hand away.

Arthur pretended to not be hurt by her actions, and instead moved his eyes to the figure in her grasp.

He blanched when he saw Merlin's unnaturally pale face. The blonde prince's eyes traveled down his body, taking in the warlock's bare chest. The only word that came to mind was, shamefully, _disgusting._

A pink burn, long healed, bloomed on his heart; raised lines, little dents, and darkened spots littered his chest and shoulders. It was knarred and messy; some old, some looking recent, and some still healing.

Following his gaze, Morgana felt anger surge through her. Glaring scathingly, she gently positioned herself over her partner's bare chest. With her neck now exposed for all eyes to see, Arthur saw the burn. _Welt_, really. It was still pink and healing; raw looking and angry. The letters were clearly printed- no, _branded-_ onto the ivory skin of her neck, like a collar, running continuously around her throat. With a glance back at Merlin, Arthur found his manservant sported the very same mark, just above a thin, white line. Another scar.

The words were gibberish to him, the letters forming what he supposed were words, which had a meaning, he couldn't even guess.

Looking away quickly, Arthur gestured for one of the knights to lift his manservant from the ground, but Morgana growled like a feral cat. She knew it was irrational- her brother just wanted to help, as did his knights. But no one besides her had shown him a kind touch in six months. The biggest part of her mind was screaming to protect him and herself; to preserve their life.

"Don't you dare _touch _him," she sneered, covering her Emrys's body with her own. A small part of her mind whispered that there was no threat, that she was overreacting.

"Morgana," Arthur said softly, attempting to be gentle "We must get him to Gaius."

Still jittery and nervous, Morgana nodded.

"Only Arthur may touch him," she said quietly, moving her eyes to the raved haired man beneath her "And I wish to stay as close to him as possible."

Arthur regarded her for a moment before sighing.

"We were hunting in the outskirts. We have a cart for game, and haven't caught anything as of late, so it's empty. You two can rest in that. Leon and I will pull it."

Once Arthur placed Merlin's unconscious body into the small wooden cart, Morgana crawled quickly beside the servant, curling herself around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand rested on his head, her fingers threading themselves through his ebony locks.

Arthur didn't know how to handle Morgana's newfound affections for his manservant, so he did what he normally did. He ignored it.

"Sire," Leon ventured cautiously, eyes flickering between the pair and his prince.

"We will settle these matters upon our return," he decided. Mounting his horse, Arthur gestured for the men to ready themselves. He went to order the men to carry on, but he hesitated.

"Morgana?"

"Hm?"

"What is that around your neck? What does it mean?"

_"Fy enaid Rwy'n addo i ti ar gyfer yr holl Eternity."_

"So what does it mean?"

He received no answer, so he carried on.


	3. Chapter 3: Creulondeb, Love, a Gofal

**Warnings for sex and mildly disturbing themes**

* * *

Sometime along the journey, Morgana fell into a deep slumber, curled into Merlin's side, settling herself in the softest way possible onto his injured frame.

It was not long before her silence turned to whimpers to mumbled words to frantic shouts.

"No! Let him go! Don't hurt him! Please, please, please, please, please. He's all I have!"

"Someone wake her!" Arthur hissed desperately.

One knight trotted forward. Reaching within the cart, he shook Morgana's shoulder as gently as possible. After a series of shakes, she woke with a yelp and looked at no one as she buried her face in Merlin's shoulder, trembling as she tried not to weep.

The men gave her the illusion of privacy as they looked away.

By the time they arrived in the citadel, it was well into the afternoon. Morgana had recovered from her dream, but still clung to Merlin like a second skin. Arthur handed the reins of the horses over to a servant and ordered another to retrieve Gaius.

"Come now, Morgana. It is time to visit Father," he said softly, allowing her to remove herself from the cart, unassisted.

She swayed a bit, but righted herself before anyone was able to come and aid her.

She went to follow Gaius to his chambers, but Arthur took her by the shoulders and guided her away.

"No… I have to make sure he's okay," she mumbled, reaching out to Merlin's body, which was being carried away.

"You must speak with Father first," Arthur said, guiding her to the throne room.

She did not relent quietly, shouting and shoving before realizing that resistance was futile.

When the great doors opened, Uther stood merrily, greeting them with a smile.

"Morgana, we were concerned that you would not be found," he said reverently "I am incredibly glad that you have returned to us."

Morgana smiled weakly, her mind still on her warlock in the physician's chambers. She wrung her hands and shifted on her feet.

"I apologize if this gives you bad memories, but do you know why you were taken?" Arthur prodded.

She hesitated for the smallest moment, gripping her upper arms with both hands, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her skin.

"They wanted information, pain, punishment. They wanted to break us."

She shuddered, moving her arms again to clutch at her ripped shift, wringing it in her palms. She remembered the sound of Merlin's pain filled grunts and the calloused hand that beat her cheek.

"What did they _do_ to you?" Uther asked furiously.

Morgana flinched with his angered tone.

"Th-they wh-whipped and b-beat him," she choked, biting her lip, trying earnestly to not let tears come to her eyes "Cut and b-broke him. They t-tried to make him s-scream, but he n-never w-would. Eventually, they s-stared to bring me in to w-watch. He w-would yell for them to t-take me a-away, begged me to c-close my e-eyes, b-but hearing his s-soft sounds of p-pain was unb-bearable. The-they would s-slap m-me when I did a-anything but w-watch. T-they would hea-heal him cr-crudely with m-magic so that he w-wouldn't di-die, but n-near the end we were w-wishing for d-death."

Morgana covered her mouth with her hand suddenly, attempting to catch a sob.

"Now he could d-die, and it's all my fau-fault!"

"It's not your fault, Morgana," Arthur consoled as gently as he could. Uther just stood, uncaring of the tale of the boy's suffering.

"Y-yes it i-is! He to-took what was supposed to be _my_ pa-pain! Gave me more f-ood, protect-ted me from those mons-ters!"

She was hysterical, hiccupping and catching her breath, most of it dry and heaving, like her body couldn't muster the tears.

"I care not for this _servant _boy. You are what matters," Uther proclaimed, clasping his hands behind himself.

"Would you care for me if I told you that I am no longer innocent? That my maidenhead is not my own?" Morgana growled, her previous grief melting into anger. In her vexation, she forgot to heed her tongue.

Uther's lips became thin, his fists clenching and jaw tightening. His face turned a blood red, his eyes like slits.

"What?" he roared.

Morgana flinched and took a step backward.

"You have been ruined? What is your worth now? No good man will wish to have you!"

The words were harsh, biting. Even Arthur took a breath of incredulity.

"I do not wish for a good man! I wish for M-Merlin! I want hi-him! No one e-lse!" she cried, knowing in the recesses of her mind that she was letting her anger get the best of her.

Uther raised his hand to slap her, his leather-clad hand reaching out to take a fistful of knarred raven curls to bring her face closer to his livid eyes and growl at her.

Morgana's eyes widened, her eyebrows raising and crunching together, her mouth slightly agape in a silent scream. She curled into herself, her bare toes pointing in the empty space to the king's right, towards the nearest door. In her haste to escape his approaching hand she fell backward, covering her face with her arms.

"Get out of my sight!" he roared.

"Father!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling Morgana up by her forearms and pushing her behind his broad frame "She could have been raped!"

"I care not!" the king bellowed, waving his hand dismissively "She no longer has any worth as a Lady of the Court! No respectable man will have her now!"

The prince thought for a long moment, eyes slightly wide and eyebrows brought together. Slowly, a light came to him.

"So _give_ her to Merlin!" he tried to reason, "He has withstood intense interrogation and torture, protected a Lady! He has done far better than any knight I have seen! Give Morgana to him as a gift!"

The idea was a bit half-baked, Merlin being a peasant from some far away settlement. He was born with nothing and, according to law, would die with nothing. In theory, it was an excellent solution.

Morgana felt sick. They were speaking of her as if she were an object or a fine horse in the stables. A "gift" to be given. Though she conceded that if she, in fact, was to be "given", she would prefer, virtually wish, to be given to her Merlin. Her Emrys.

It was then that she made her decision. She loved Merlin far too much to be taken away from him. If this proposal did not pass, he would be executed for holding the affections of a Lady.

She would request, beg if she had to, to be "given" to Merlin. She hated it, the thought of degrading herself to the point of being passed off as something without a mind of it's own, but it was either this or his death. If she wished to be with him, wanted him to continue living, then she would present herself as nothing more than an object in the court. She was "ruined" to them, but she knew better. Merlin knew better. She was worth _more_ than ever before because she had joined with the man she loves.

Arthur broke her from her thoughts.

"How did you escape in the first place, Morgana?" he tried to deviate the subject line.

She smiled softly, if a bit strained.

"It was Merlin. I was hasty in my desire to be free. He stopped me from making many foolish mistakes. He said we should have waited, let the time pass until they lessened the patrols. We bode our time, and in turn we had a relatively easy escape. They thought we were broken, and Merlin _knew_ that they thought that. But we were strong. _He _was strong."

She wasn't lying. He had done all of those things, though she made it sound a bit more elegant.

Uther, though still incensed, considered the facts that the new information brought to the table. He could not just give his ward to a _peasant_, even if she was sullied. He could give the boy a small area of land, far off in the outskirts and include Morgana as a house-warming gift, but that was too giving for a king of his demeanor. Uther mulled over his options.

"What is this boy's surname?" he demanded. He was sure it was of no consequence, but there was no harm in asking.

"A-Ambrosious," Morgana stuttered in her haste to reply, still a bit shaken by his previous anger. She buried her unease deep within her, but it leaked slowly through her stone mask.

Uther's red completion melted to a milky white.

"He said his name was far too long, so he shortened it. Ambrosious is just an abridged version," she added, hoping to placate him.

"Bring that boy in here!" Uther roared with a newfound urgency.

The siblings jumped, unsettled by the king's sudden change of manor.

"Father, he is unwell," Arthur attempted to reason. "He wasn't even conscious the last time I saw him. What could be so urgent that you must interrupt his healing?"

The king's teeth clenched and his jaw pulsed.

"That boy's father was a traitor! He abandoned the court, was a Dragonlord!" Uther snapped.

Arthur was surprised, but he thought for a moment while Morgana tried to look shocked.

"With all due respect, Father, my manservant has confided in me that he never knew his father. Didn't even know the man's name. He had assumed that he had died while he was in the womb. His mother never spoke of the man."

Uther paced before his throne, tapping a gloved hand on his stiff lower lip.

"You are sure that he knows nothing of his heritage?" the king frowned, the heels of his shoes tapping the marble floors.

"Positive, Father. All of the Dragonlords have died out, as you know. The legacy died with Balinor. And even if the powers have passed to him, I have slain the last dragon. If we wish to hide Morgana's impurity, he must be alive. He is ignorant and holds no connection to those beasts. We must play our cards right, for we no longer have a full deck."

The king sat heavily in his throne. He knew that his son was correct. It was something he would never admit, but they were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"I will think on this, but it seems as though we have little choice," he mussed, bringing his fingers to his temple as if soothing an ache.

"Thank you, sire," Morgana spoke softly, curtsying as deeply as she could.

"We will take our leave," Arthur stated, grasping Morgana by the shoulders and pulling her towards the doors.

Uther gave an absent nod.

Once they were in the hall, Morgana shook her brother's hands from their uncomfortable perch far too close to her neck.

"So…" Arthur tried awkwardly. "How did you become, uh… deflowered?"

it was an unseasonable situation and admittedly, Arthur had never had to deal with one quite like the one that was thrust upon him right then.

Morgana walked onward, mulling over what to tell her half-brother.

"Merlin and I… we needed to remind ourselves what love felt like. We had our weak and our strong moments. We still do, as you have seen. But that moment- that moment of weakness was thrust upon us. The disgusting guards wanted a fun time, but Merlin wouldn't allow it. He fought even in chains, covering my body with his. He wouldn't let them near me. They fought to the point where the guards said either he bed me, or they would."

"_You fucking bastard," the filthy man spat. "You think you can get in the way of my fun time, boy?"_

_The other two men flanking the man jeered._

"_Hey Weis," the one to his right came forth, his tone too eager for comfort. "Why don't we strike this little man a deal?"_

_The first man hummed._

"_What kind'a deal were ya thinking?" _

_The second man smiled in a feral snarl._

"_Either he fucks her senseless, while we watch, of we get to do it ourselves."_

"Em-Merlin," Morgana caught herself, "nearly broke then. It was the first time in our five-and-a-half month imprisonment that he cried in front of them, or at all."

_Merlin's eyes widened and filled with tears. He fought to keep the drops in, but the force of the horror that overwhelmed him pushed the tears over._

_How could they _ask _that of him?_

_His eyes stayed wide and unfocused as the diamond droplets slipped down his elfin features and onto Morgana's cheeks and nose._

"_E-Emmy," she choked softly. Her eyes were like saucers, emerald green irises watching the tears emanation from his cobalt orbs with nauseating wonder._

"_Wh-what do I d-do?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. He was asking, not her, but himself. And for the life of him he could not find an answer. His arms shook from where they were braced beside her head._

"_Love me," she whispered clemently, fisting her hand firmly in his hair. "Love me like they never would."_

"And love me he did," she sighed, fingering the mass of curls about her shoulders. "I'd always wished for him to love me like that; with his body as well as his heart and soul. But not like that. Not with those men watching our love. We made the most of it, though."

"Ar-are you with a child?" Arthur asked tentatively, twisting his fingers in a very un-princely way.

Morgana paused in her steps, truly thinking on the question. She did not turn to face the prince.

"I do not know, but if I am, it was born of love, and nothing else."

_He looked at her for a long moment, taking in her matted hair and dust-stained cheeks. She was beautiful._

"_Fuck her already!" the third guard called._

_He was ignored._

_Eyes never leaving hers, he lifted a shaking hand to caress her torso. Her dress was torn, and the once white silk had long ago turned a dull, foggy gray._

_Where his work-worn fingers touched her exposed skin, heat bloomed. Long fingers skimmed up the expanse of her back, clumsily loosening the laces holding the precious fabric to her body. His hands hooked themselves beneath the silk, removing her modesty along with the cloth._

_Her thin fingers danced down his chest, which was bare from the primitive healing session that had been held just a few hours prior. They had not replaced his rags. _

_Everything was slow; from the movement of his hands pushing her shift past her hips to the way the tips of her fingers caressed his protruding cheekbones and full lips._

_As she shifted to allow the fabric to glide past her legs, Merlin ever so softly kissed her lips. Her lips were not smooth and red as they once were so many months ago, but chapped and pink, like pale seashells. They were just as soft, though, despite the circumstances._

_They poured everything into that kiss, all their love, all their passion. Morgana tensed when she heard the men spit harsh encouragements to go faster, but Merlin dragged her attention back to him._

"_Hey, hey, look at me," his breath brushed against her lips "It's just us. They don't exist."_

_Nodding, she pressed her lips more firmly to his, and his hands were brought to her breasts in a gentle hold. His thumbs skimmed and circled her pink nipples softly, and she hummed lowly. _

_Full lips prodding, he moved his way down her neck and to her bosom. He kissed and lavished her peaks and mounds, his tongue circling the pink rings one at a time._

_His lips then went to the flat of her stomach, his tongue delving into her bellybutton teasingly. She moaned softly, threading her fingers through his ebony locks. Eventually he came to her womanhood, the very essence of her._

_The palms of his hands spread her thighs, and he took in a breath at her beauty. Despite their situation, she was eager for him, her essence dripping for his love._

_Delving into her folds, he licked and nipped the diamond between her lower lips, massaging the nub lightly._

_She mewled and keened quietly, her fingers gripping his hair and holding him to her core. _

_Sliding lower, Merlin lapped at her sweet nectar, humming in pleasure at the slightly sweet, slightly salty taste._

_He glade his lips back up her winsome form and back to her lips. _

_Morgana could taste herself on his lips and tongue, and she gave a half moan, at the taste of him mixed with her, half groan at the need for him blooming within her._

_He understood her silent plea and moved the hand that was braced on her hip to her womanhood. He circled and teased her, until she pulled fiercely on his raven hair._

_Fingers dancing within her, Merlin nipped and licked her lips, jaw, and neck. Her cries grew louder in volume and higher in pitch, contrary to her attempt to keep herself quiet._

"_Fuck her!" the men growled._

"_Love me," she breathed._

_And with that soft whisper of a request, Merlin unlaced his trousers with a single hand, and pushed them down past his knobby knees and ankles, kicking them off._

_He spread her legs and inched forward, his manhood stiff and aching, craving her heat. He took care to be gentle while inching into her, her tightness wrapping around him, smooth like silk._

_It stretched and pulled her in ways she had never felt before. It was foreign, but the pain was not sharp like a sting until he reached her maidenhead. It was a split second where it broke and the prick made her flinch. The rest of the way was much like before: an ache on her walls, which was sharp but dull at the same time- acute. It was the kind of ache that alerts you, makes you feel filled with an odd energy. It pulled and tingled in a bright kind of way, like touching ice to a healing burn._

_Morgana shifted slightly. He filled her completely, and she sighed at the full feeling it gave her behind the ache. Merlin paused, sheathed to the hilt, his face hovering over her own._

"_Well come then, love. Haven't the time to dally, do we?" she whispered fondly in his ear, pulling his chest to hers in a gentle embrace._

_Her fingers played with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck faintly, nuzzling his cheek a bit with the tip of her nose._

_Merlin lifted himself a bit to look into her eyes and smile lovingly. _

_And with that lilt of the lips, he moved within her._

_It was slow; a small shift of his shoulders and rock of his hips. It felt like falling; a rising feeling within her, slightly uncomfortable, but slightly pleasing._

_An "oh!" slipped from between her lips, a tiny exclamation. Merlin looked at her expectantly and smiled. She smiled in turn, nodding and fluttering his lashes in a teasing sort of way._

_It was a dance of many speeds and rhythms; soft and slow to hard and fast. It varied, as did the sounds emanating from their mouths; from loud to quiet, moans being swallowed by lips and tongues and teeth as they joined in more ways than one._

_Their finish was not grand, nor intense, but satisfying in way they never thought possible. _

_Morgana came first- Merlin made sure of that. She tightened her hold on his hips that she had claimed with her endless legs, pulling him to her firmly and pushing his hips to hers._

_She pulsed around him, her muscles convulsing sporadically, her mouth shaped in a tiny "o" before she bit her lip kindly to stifle her "mu-ah" of pleasure._

_Her moan melted into his as he, too, came to completion within her, spilling his seed and pulling her to him in a loving embrace, still sheathed inside her._

_They ignored the world around them; the men who stood behind them, hands disgustingly thrust within their trousers, chafing their skins to a shallow finish; the cold stone walls surrounding them; the dusty cell floor laying harshly beneath their bare bodies; the chains binding their wrists. They saw nothing but each other. _

_And something beautiful came to be._


	4. Chapter 4: Gorffennol

Morgana's small, proper steps turned large and cumbersome as she grew nearer to the Physician's Chambers. Her desperation to reach him was uncontrollable, and she blatantly ignored all welcomes and calls for her to slow down.

She burst through the doors, rushing forward, feeling what was like the pull of an invisible string to find him. She took in a sad, horrified breath when she did.

Merlin laid there limp, his breaths shallow. He wore nothing but a thin sheet to cover his modesty, and Gaius was hovering over the man's chest, like a tall shadow.

She jolted, bracing a hand on the chair closest to her.

_"Heal the fucking bastard already!" the guard roared impatiently, clenching his hands into fists._

_ The poor soul shook, his hands quivering as his hands flipped the pages in a worn, leather bound book._

_ "I-I don't have nearly enough experience to preform these spells, sir!" he cried, pulling at his sandy hair. _

_ "I don't care!" the cruel and towering man snapped, grabbling a fistful of the sorcerer's hair and pulling him forcefully closer to Merlin's limp and bleeding body. "Bring him from the brink of death, or I swear I will fuck you up so fucking much that you'll wish you were this fucker, you little cunt!" _

_ The small, lanky man- a boy more so than anything else, Morgana thought- nodded, biting his trembling lip hard enough to draw blood._

_ "I'm so, so s-sorry," he wailed like a child, chanting the words meant to heal. _

_ They were knarred, stuttered and mispronounced, emphasis's put where there should be none, and words choppy when the syllables should have been smooth and flowing. _

_ Morgana looked on, horrified as the cuts on her love's body melded together all wrong, leaving lines and lumps where there should have been smooth skin. It was too slow and lethargic, the cells deforming and skin stretching, and she could practically see Merlin's body screaming for these people to just _stop.

_ He grunted and moaned and the poor boy cried endless tears as he preformed magic well beyond him, knowing that he was mangling this man's body and could do nothing about it. _

"Stop!" Morgana cried, tripping in her haste to get to her Emrys. She stepped on the torn hem of her shift, ripping the worn silk up to the skin of her hip.

Blushing and ashamed, Morgana scrunched her face in an effort not to cry. She held her skirt together in a fist, one hand on the floor where it had landed in her attempt to catch herself.

"Please… don't touch him," she whispered, looking to the worn looking old man desperately.

Arthur burst in just a few seconds later, Gwen trailing dutifully behind. Their eyes widened as they took in Morgana's unbecoming appearance on the floor and Gaius's slow dawning realization as he stepped away from his ward.

Gwen recovered first, rushing forward and grasping Morgana's bare upper arms in an attempt to raise her from the ground. As quickly as she could, the maidservant untied her apron and covered her mistress's revealed hips, tying the strings into a tight knot.

"What has happened, Milady?" Gwen asked quietly, concerned for the woman she considered a friend.

"… touch. Don't… touch… him…" Morgana mumbled, shaking. Her lips quivered like the sorcerer's did all those weeks ago, her eyes cast down. "Please. Get… away. Don't touch… _me._"

Gwen cast a worried look to the court physician, questioning him with her chocolate eyes. The aged man sighed, thinking for a moment.

"It seems she is experiencing some form of trauma. Probably something like posttraumatic stress disorder. It will take some time, but she will recover. We will just have to wait it out. For now, set her down at the table and retrieve her some more suitable clothing," Gaius said sadly, turning back to his ward.

Gwen nodded hesitantly, setting Morgana down at the bench. Arthur nodded to her and smiled tightly as she walked briskly from the room, moving to sit beside his sister.

"Get… away!" she moaned, placing her head in her hands.

"Morgana…" Arthur urged, tentatively reaching out to nudge her shoulder.

The witch recoiled, but the touch seemed to jerk her from the memory in her mind.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she mumbled, still shaking slightly.

"There's nothing to apologize for," the prince stated kindly.

Glancing about herself, Morgana's eyes caught Gaius holding a knife, the man's hand moving towards Merlin's bare flesh.

"What the hell are you doing?" she cried out fiercely, jumping from her seat.

The physician looked to her calmly. Arthur was still sitting beside her, confused about her sudden change in emotion. A few seconds prior, she was meek and jumpy, like a startled animal. Now she was furious and brash, yelling at the court physician to put the scalpel down that very instant.

"I must re-open some of Merlin's wounds. They healed improperly and will cause him a lot of grief in the future if they are not fixed now. It is only a few that are so urgent that this course of action must be taken. There is nothing to worry about," he explained kindly, looking the king's ward in the eyes, speaking nothing but the truth.

Morgana clenched her teeth but nodded, moving to stand beside Merlin and grasped his hand, pressing a kiss to it. She winced with every dip into his skin, with every bead of red leaking from his opening flesh, but stood by him the whole time and long after, falling asleep at his bedside, staying even when she was urged to return to her chambers, the sun setting below the horizon.

She would stand by him, even when they were out of this mess. Forever.


	5. Chapter 5: Yr Arbrawf

**Do people even read these things? I know I don't. **

**So, lucky Uther, I have decided to make him less of a bastard than he already is and make Morgana younger than Arthur and Merlin. Hooray for Uther. He's still a tyrannical asshole though.**

**Arthur: 23**

**Merlin: 17 turning 18**

**Morgana: 16, closer to 17**

* * *

"He is to take the Knight's Trial," Uther declared, stating it in such a way that everyone listening knew that he knew the boy would not succeed, should he undertake the test.

They were sitting in a council meeting, one that took place in the early morning, right after the sun had risen into the horizon.

"But Father!" Arthur protested, standing from his seat beside the king. "He is still healing! It has been but a week since he and Morgana have been found!"

Uther had thought long and hard about what he would do with his son's manservant. He went from the idea of just executing the boy to allowing him to be a noble in the King's Court. After hours of contemplation, he settled for something he felt would be in the middle: he would leave the outcome to fate by making the boy become a knight. He would fight in the Knight's Trial, and if he won, he would become Sir Ambrosious, soon to be husband of Morgana Le Fay. The king's ward would be gifted to the boy as payment for protecting Camelot's secrets as well as her. Morgana's impurity would be hidden. That is, if he passed the test.

Uther was hoping that even in the odd chance that the servant _did_ succeed, he would die brutally on some mission or at war. He felt it was a win-win situation.

"Pardon the intrusion, sire, but I have seen this boy before. He does not seem to be over sixteen annual passings. It is not legal for him to take the test, should he be as young as he appears," a noble, Lord Harold, said respectfully, remembering the boy fumbling in the corridors of the castle.

Sighing irately, the king turned to Arthur.

"How old is this boy?"

Arthur thought for a moment, thinking of what Merlin had told him prior to his and Morgana's capture.

"I believe he is to be eighteen winters this upcoming season. He still has three passings before he can even _think_ of taking the trial, let alone being a knight," he stated, hiding a small smile at the thought of _Mer_lin, his bumbling manservant being a _knight._

Uther hummed.

"His age matters not. If he is strong enough to withstand torture, he is strong enough for the trial," he declared.

"But he is not a noble!" Arthur protested.

"He has proven to be as brave and noble as any Lord or Lady. He has the spirit, so now let's see if he has the strength. Should he pass the trial, he will be gifted my ward, the Lady Morgana," the king said, standing regally from his throne. "It is settled. He will take the test tomorrow at midday. Prepare your men, Arthur."

And with that Uther, King of Camelot, left the throne room, leaving no room for arguments. Arthur just stood, mouth gaping like a fish.

* * *

Gaius trailed after Uther, hearing of Merlin's orders to take the _Knights Trial_ of all things!

"Sire, are you sure this is for the best?" he asked, desperately trying to dissuade the man from sending his ward to what he felt was certain death.

_And humiliation,_ he thought fleetingly, attempting to joke with himself.

The king paused in his strides, turning to face the aging man.

"You dare question me?"

Gaius sighed.

"Not at all, sire. I just wish for you to be sure of this. You are breaking your own law. The boy is injured. He is just beginning to walk again, let alone fight. Some may view this as cruel. He's just a boy."

"Morgana is considered a woman and he is two passings her senior. He is perfectly old enough for this."

The physician sighed.

"You know just as well as I do that men and women are very different. A girl becomes a woman when she is able to bear children. Morgana has been a woman since the age of ten. A boy becomes a man when he has finished his growing. I assure you, my ward is nowhere near there."

Uther scoffed and continued on down the hall.

* * *

"Please don't go out there!" Morgana begged, clutching at Merlin's tunic.

They had heard of the trial the previous afternoon from Gwen, and while Merlin took on a stony façade, Morgana's expression adapted to something akin to fear.

"I must, Morgana. If I am to be with you, I have to pass this test. If we are to marry, I must be a knight. Besides, I was ordered to do this. I can't deny my king, now can I?"

"But you can hardly walk! What if you are hurt? I can't bear that!" she cried.

"I'll do fine, love. Have a little faith," he smiled. "Besides. 'Sir Ambrosious sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?"

Morgana smiled weakly and chuckled a bit.

"Please, be careful. You will be challenging recent recruits and Camelot's best knights, after you last sixty seconds with Arthur. It is no easy task," she whispered, reaching up and kissing him soundly before letting him pull away and walk out to the arena.

"It'll be fine!" Merlin called, striding out to the tents.

Morgana smiled sadly, thinking to their future. She hoped so, for their sake.

* * *

"Does this armor really need to be this heavy?" Merlin whined, pulling at the chest plate.

Arthur rolled his eyes, snorting at his manservant's incompetence.

"It's only about forty-five kilograms. It's not that big of a deal!"

"For you, you stupid prat! I'm only, like, ten kilograms heavier!"

Arthur looked Merlin up and down.

"How much do you _eat?_" he asked incredulously.

"Some of us aren't _fat_ your majesty. And besides, I haven't exactly been living like a king this past season," Merlin said a bit flippantly.

Arthur flinched a bit.

"Y… yeah."

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling blooming in his gut, Arthur trifled around in a chest at the entrance of the tent, pulling out a finely sharpened sword.

"Here," he said harshly, holding the blade out.

Merlin eyed the weapon warily before turning.

"I don't want a sword. I haven't a clue on how to use it."

"Well then what they hell are you going to fight with?" the prince asked incredulously, following Merlin out of the tent.

"Would you happen to have some knives? And a bow with some arrows? I'd prefer those," he replied absently, looking about himself, not even glancing at his master.

"Those are against the law in a trial," Arthur attempted to assuage him.

"So is me participating in the trial in the first place. I'm sure the king won't mind. He probably thinks I'm going to fail anyway."

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Arthur!" Merlin copied, rolling his eyes petulantly.

"Ugh, fine."

Arthur barked some orders at a passing squire and followed his manservant to the entrance of the arena.

"Okay. This isn't as terrible as people make it out to be, but it's hard. Well, _I_ had no problem, but that doesn't mean other people didn't. Just avoid any direct attacks and keep up some form of a defense. Don't attack unless necessary. You can find a man's weak spot by…"

"Arthur?" Merlin interrupted kindly.

"What?"

"Shut up."

And with that Merlin took the weapons held out to him by a squire, thanking the boy, and entered the arena, leaving Arthur standing dumbstruck by the entrance.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Knight's Trial! Today is a rare occasion. Our king has allowed a _servant_ to participate in the trials!"

The crowd roared in excitement, disbelief painting the faces of many spectators.

Arthur entered the arena, coming to a stop right in the middle. He waved and the crowd cheered.

Merlin entered next, coming to a stop beside his prince. He did not acknowledge the people in the stands as he shook his hand, grasping his quiver and bow in the other hand. His knives were strapped to his belt, right below his waist.

The spectators eyed him curiously.

Arthur felt more than saw Merlin's small flinch when their hands touched. He frowned. He knew that Merlin was, well, _sassier_ than he was before, for lack of a better term, but this aversion to touch was new. Very new.

Both men turned and went to their respective sides, preparing for battle.

"May the trials begin!"


	6. Chapter 6: Tanamcangyfrif

Arthur approached lazily, the tip of his sword aimed low, pointed towards the ground. He circled his servant like a hunter stalks its prey, slow but sure. He prepared no defense, as if he knew Merlin wouldn't be any real threat.

Quite frankly, Merlin was more than a bit offended. His master was looking at him as if he were a deer with a broken leg. Something to be pitied. Something with spirit but no real strength.

Merlin was tempted to show Arthur just how strong he really was, but just as his fingers twitched to grasp his dagger to throw, he caught himself. Showing Arthur up would not win him the the trial. No. He must be patient. He must be wise. Winning the trial is easy. It's how he decides to win that will make all the difference.

Loosely, Arthur extended his arm to swing.

Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Stepping to the side, the warlock tapped the tip if Arthur's blade with his bow. The prince swung again, a pathetic twist of the blade.

Merlin's frustration with this prat rose.

"Come now! I know you spent the evening at the tavern, but surely a few cups of mead the evening before wouldn't affect your skill, My Lord!" he taunted, standing to the side with a lazy grin on his face.

Arthur swung with a bit more force and advanced towards his servant.

"Shut up!" the prince breathed lowly, taking another swing. "I'm trying to help you, you idiot!"

Merlin growled, tapping the blade away with more force than before.

"Dueling with me as if I were a child does not help me, sire. If anything, it just harms me in the long run."

Before anything else could be said, the bell signaling the sixty-second challenge to be over rang. Merlin walked off, ignoring the formal handshake. He forced himself to pace his steps, his legs straining to keep their average gait. He coerced his fingers to relax and not clench into fists, unable to stop grinding his teeth.

He could hear Arthur calling after him as he exited the arena, and he had to press himself further, instead of stopping and yelling at the prat in front of the spectators.

He walked through the line of tents briskly, glaring seemingly at nothing in particular. Arthur caught up to him once he entered the tent, grasping his shoulder to make his manservant face him.

"Merlin-"

"No."

Merlin yanked his shoulder from the prince's grasp fiercely, baring his teeth at the man harshly.

"Don't spit some shit about only wanting to help, Arthur! You made a fool out of me!" he snarled lowly.

Arthur's eyes were wide with incredulity. He had never seen Merlin mad before, in all the time he's known the man.

"I don't understand why you're so mad, Merlin! I was just making it easier for you to pass on to the next challenge!"

"Easier?" Merlin asked cynically. "You just showed the whole of Camelot that I wasn't worth the time of day! You just told every single person watching that I was so pathetic that you couldn't even strike me down! Fucking hell!"

Merlin ran his fingers harshly through his significantly longer locks of raven hair and turned to face the back of the small tent.

"Merlin, you are overreact-"

"With all due respect, your majesty," Merlin stated firmly, the anger melting away to stark incredulity at how stupid the prince could be. "Fuck off."  
And with that Merlin strode out of the tent and back to the arena to face his next challenger. He was tired of people thinking he was weak.  
He would show them what he could do.

* * *

The second opponent was Sir Kale. Merlin had seen him practice many times before, and knew how he fought and the man's style well.

He was lazy, just like Arthur. That pissed Merlin off. Could no one take him seriously?

Before that half a year in the dungeons of that godforsaken castle, it wouldn't have bothered him that no one thought that he could take care of himself. It wouldn't have mattered that others thought of him as weak.

But it was all different now. He was truly weak for six whole months. He was truly defenseless for half of a year. For two seasons, Merlin couldn't save himself or the others around him. For a little more than one hundred and eighty days, he could do nothing but watch as he and Morgana suffered.  
They thought he was weak and they took advantage of that.

Merlin shook his head shortly. He couldn't let those thoughts get to his head. He didn't need to prove to these people that he was strong. He knew he was. He didn't need to prove anything to those that meant nothing to him.

"Come now, Kale! Show me at least a little of what you can do!" he jeered at the man, smirking provokingly.

Baring his teeth a bit, Kale lashed out, a decent hit for someone who put zero effort into form. Merlin tapped the blade away with his bow.

"Oh look, the guy doesn't want to give a decent fight!" Merlin called, addressing the crowd. "... Or maybe he can't!"

The people watching gasped at the obvious barb, and a few even tittered in amusement.

Kale lunged, his foot stepping to close to Merlin, and the warlock stuck his foot out, tripping the knight. He stumbled, but righted his footing fairly quickly.  
Growling, Kale lunged again, this time putting more effort into the attack. It was filled with anger and embarrassment, too tight and heavy.

Merlin smiled.

The knight's blade came dangerously close to the warlock's head, but right before the edge of the broadsword could rip through his flesh, he ducked, spinning in such a fashion that he ended up behind the knight. Kale had put too much force into his shoulders, something Merlin observed he often did in training. Little did the man know that a male's equilibrium was centered in his chest, unlike a woman's, which was centered in her core. Merlin utilized this fact and placed his palm in the middle of Kale's back, pushing with enough force to pitch the man forward.

His attack was a bit slow, Merlin noticed with a wince as the butt of the sword swung and hit him in the side. It rattled his whole form, bumping cuts and bruises that he didn't even remember he had. His armor may have been meant to protect him, but it hurt more than helped. It was so _heavy._

"Uhg," he sighed. He would have to end this soon.

Kicking his foot up, Merlin shoved Kale back to the ground and stepped forcefully on his ankle, effectively snapping the bone as his armor threw him to the ground.

The bell rang and Merlin strode away as a squire ran to aide Kale to Gaius's quarters. He couldn't even muster up any pity for the man. He would heal.

The next challenger was much like Kale, as was the next and the next. There was no real individuality. Camelot taught their knights all the same tricks, trained them all the same way, each one ignored all the same tactics.

They were all good warriors, Merlin conceded. That was a truth. But once a person knows how to defeat one Camelot knight, it was easy to defeat the rest.

Halfway through the trial, Merlin shed his armor. It was in the middle of a test when he decided enough was enough. So right after Sir Damien attempted to run him through, he unbuckled the straps and threw the horrid piece of metal aside.

The crowd stared in shock, their mouths hanging comically open. Morgana was the only one with her face painted in a look of horror as she screamed to him, "_Put your armor back on this instant!"_

He just smiled and knocked Sir Damien unconscious.

It wasn't until he had to battle Sir Leon that he had to even use his weapons.

The knight had realized not long after the trial had started that the boy was a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't even drawn his weapons, and the trial was almost coming to an end! He had even taken off his armor!

Even though he prepared himself for a real fight, and even though he was ready to ignore all barbs sent his way, Leon still lost. It came just after he made a wonderfully executed attack, which cut Merlin's shirt practically in half and caused a thin line of blood to peak through the boy's marred skin. He supposed it was then that the servant decided to stop playing around.

He ended on his stomach with a bow pressing harshly into his Adam's apple and quite a few cuts on his face and legs. Merlin himself sported a few injuries to add to his older ones and he could feel Morgana seething. Sir Leon would have to watch his back until Merlin could have a talk with her.

The trial ended much in the same way Merlin expected it to. He only had a few injuries and no one died. The thing that hurt the most was his back, which had began to burn early on in the day, due to the tearing in the lash marks that resided there. Merlin was proudest of the fact that he didn't even use magic once. He was a bit concerned about how Arthur's knights fought, and decided that he would have a word with the man after he cooled off a bit.

He expected the punch that Morgana threw half-heartedly at his arm before pulling him into a loving embrace.

He expected Arthur's look of befuddled wonder.

And sadly, he expected Uther's raucous grimace of disgust and disapproval.


End file.
